


Against the Cold

by lady_krysis (saekhwa)



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Character of Color, Comment Fic, Community: poetry_fiction, Families of Choice, Female Character of Color, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, POV Character of Color, POV Female Character, Post-Canon, Prompt Fic, Team, Team Dynamics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-21
Updated: 2011-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-21 15:23:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/226681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>To love another is something<br/>like prayer and can't be planned, you just fall</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Against the Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://poetry-fiction.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**poetry_fiction**](http://poetry-fiction.dreamwidth.org/) 's [July Comment Fic Challenge](http://poetry-fiction.dreamwidth.org/12959.html). You know what's awesome? Team fic.

The high elevation thins the air, but it's the howl of the winds, the sharp bite of them piercing through all the layers Aisha wears that makes her shiver. She has so many reasons for killing Max. Making her endure the winter weather will be one more.

"You okay?" Clay asks.

Aisha nods. "I'll survive."

Clay answers with a grin. "Never doubted it." He turns to his team. "Pooch—"

"Working on it," Pooch says while Jensen hops up and down, teeth chattering, urging Pooch, "Work faster, buddy. My balls are about to fall off here."

Aisha crouches, shutting her eyes as she holds her knees to her chest, trying to retain as much heat as she can. She opens her eyes when Clay jostles her, the broad bulk of his body pressing in close.

"It helps," he says, draping an arm around her shoulders.

She watches her breath pour thin and white from her lips when she sighs. Then Cougar presses in on her left. He answers the arch of her eyebrow with a sliver of a smile.

"Clay is right," is all he says.

"So," Jensen says, rubbing his hands together, even though he's wearing a thick pair of gloves. "If I jump in on the cuddle pile you guys have got"—He looks pointedly at Aisha—"are you going to stab me?"

The smile she offers in answer is habit, one as slim and sharp as the blade that Jensen is worried about. As cold as she is, she couldn't hold it, but Jensen frowns, his brow pinching as he contemplates the consequences.

"Guess I'll just have to risk it. Sorry, Aisha."

He huddles down in front of her just as Pooch sparks a fire. He tries to feed it with the few items that they have, and once it's self-sustainable, he joins them. Aisha is the centerpiece, surrounded by four men that, years ago, she wanted to see dead. She's seen each one of them almost die, and Clay nearly at the end of _her_ gun.

"So who wants to sing some campfire songs with me?" Jensen asks.

It's Pooch who playfully slaps Jensen in the back of the head. "It's quiet time, man. You need all that hot air you keep letting out."

"What we need is a trip to the beach," Jensen mumbles, scooting closer to Aisha. "I'm never going to complain about the heat again."

Aisha spreads her legs, so he can settle between them and loops her arms around him. "Yes, you will," she says, resting her chin atop his head and shutting her eyes again. "You complain about everything."

Pooch laughs. "Amen to that."


End file.
